


Distance & Telephones

by Sway



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sway/pseuds/Sway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens roughly five months in. Mike hasn’t said the words yet so Harvey takes matters into his own hands...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distance & Telephones

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: late/post 2.10; established relationship
> 
> Author's Note: This was written for [this post](http://suits-meme.livejournal.com/10789.html?thread=3752741#t3752741) at the kink_meme. The title comes from Seven Mary Three's "Last Kiss". Many many thanks to my dear [mander3_swish](http://mander3-swish.livejournal.com/) for righting my wrongs.

It happens roughly five months in.

No, it happens exactly five months and fifteen days in.

That's 168 days. Or 24 weeks. Or 4032 hours. Or 241... oh fuck this... He is not counting the minutes. And he sure as hell won't count the seconds. He is not Mike Ross.

He is Harvey Specter, and Harvey Specter does not count minutes.

Instead, he breaks out his second most expensive scotch, pours himself a drink (or three), and looks out onto the city, wondering what the hell just happened.

 

*

He has Donna deliver a note to Mike. Of course, she berates him that she may be his secretary, but she is not his errand girl. She does go to Mike's cubicle, anyway, and drops the folded piece of paper on his desk as she, quite literally, flies by.

Enabling is her forte. Her words.

At his own desk, Harvey rolls one of his balls (baseballs!!!) between his hands, waiting for the answer. He won't admit that he's nervous. Not even when he bolts out of his chair as Donna flutters back in.

She takes up position in front of him, hands behind her back, grinning from ear to ear. She let's him squirm, and really, he should fire her for it.

"He says yes," she finally announces proudly.

Harvey puffs out a breath of relief and nods his thanks.

"What did he say 'yes' to?" Of course, Donna has to ask. And of course she has to sit down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. She isn't going anywhere before he gives her a satisfying answer.

Knowing defeat when he sees it, Harvey goes to the door, peers out, and then closes it. Of course, attempted privacy in the glass temple that is Pearson Hardman is feeble, but it's worth a try.

Then he sits down at his desk again, swiveling in it to buy some time.

"Well?" Donna urges him on, clearly impatient.

"It's been five months," Harvey begins like it explains it all.

"Five and a half, actually," Donna corrects. At Harvey's annoyed glare, she feigns innocence. "Hey, I'm paid to keep track of your affairs."

"Affairs? Really? That's what you're calling it?"

"Would you rather I called it the greatest love story this firm has ever seen?" she deadpans. When he doesn't reply, she continues. "Talk to mama. What's the problem?"

"There's no problem. It's just...," Harvey's shoulders sag in defeat. The top secret agents have nothing on Donna. "He hasn't said it yet."

"He hasn't said... ooh, he hasn't said it yet."

"I thought he would say it. I thought he wouldn't shut up about it. You know how he is. Sometimes it's like he can't stop talking about the most insignificant things but..."

"Harvey, this might come as a shock to you but... maybe he's waiting for you to say it first."

Harvey lifts his hand in a "well... duh"-gesture.

Donna's jaw drops. Which, taken for itself, is worth this whole conversation. She rises and walks around the desk. No, she prowls. Like she's about to pounce on her prey. And Harvey is her prey.

"That's what this is about, isn't it?" She sits on the edge of the desk, one hand on the armrest of his chair, making sure there is no escape. "You've planned a super romantic date – presuming you know what these words mean – and you will tell him that you lo..."

"One more word from you and you're fired."

She shrugs casually. "Tried that, didn't stick." Her mood sobers quickly and her hand moves from the armrest to his arm. "I'm happy for you, Harvey. I really am." Then she rises and walks towards the door. Over her shoulder, she adds with the fraction of a wink: "Don't screw it up."

"When have I ever..." Harvey begins but his words trail off. For one, because the door has already fallen closed behind her. And two, because he'd rather not get into a discussion about his screw-ups with Donna. For all he knows, she has been keeping book about those, too.

 

*

Taking Mike to dinner was a challenge at first. He seemed to be all but immune to fine cuisine; sushi being the most top-notch thing he actually seemed to like. And yet, these days you could get sushi off a food truck down the street, so maybe that didn't even count any more.

After the third or fourth date, they had finally talked about it (like it was problem), and now that Harvey knows that his... Mike is more of a comfort food guy, it has become easier.

For tonight, Harvey has reservations at the 21 Club. It's the one thing he won't let Donna handle. Mostly because he can do without her running commentary (it's bad enough that she has given him those knowing smiles all day). But also because it's private.

And it's those private things he's struggling with the most. In the office, he is as smooth as they come. There might even be a picture of him in the dictionary next to the word. But these things, the things that involve feelings, he feels uncomfortable with.

Which is why Harvey is nervous when he walks up to Mike's door to pick him up. He puffs out a breath, straightens his shoulders, and knocks.

It doesn't take Mike long to open the door. Well, he pulls the door open and immediately disappears back into his apartment without a word of greeting. "I'll be ready in a minute," he calls back from the crack in the wall he calls his bedroom. He's on his knees, peering under the bed.

"Good evening to you, too." Harvey's words go unheard. "Looking for something?"

"My other shoe." Mike's voice is strained when he lies flat on his stomach to reach for something under the bed.

Harvey is caught halfway between rolling his eyes in annoyance (that's the guy he's dating?) and amusement (that's the guy he's dating). "How is it possible that you..."

"Not the same thing," Mike interrupts the routine question. He emerges again, proudly holding up his second shoe. "Got it." He plops down on the bed to put the shoe on, and while he does that, he gives Harvey a once-over. "What's wrong with you?"

For a brief second, Harvey wonders if Mike can see it. If something about him gives it away. "Nothing," he shrugs, hoping that Mike buys it.

"No, something isn't right." Once more, Mike lets his gaze drift over him and it's getting uncomfortable. Then he jabs a finger at Harvey. "Got it. You're wearing the checkered tie. You never wear that unless it's a special occasion."

"Have you been gossiping with Donna again?" Harvey tries to divert Mike's line of thought, but it's too late.

"Is this is a special occasion?" Mike pries, sauntering over to Harvey while slipping into his jacket.

"If you'd call spending a few hundred dollars on dinner just to get laid 'special,' then yeah. This is a special occasion."

For a second, Mike seems hurt by the statement, then his expression turns into a smug smile. "You think you're going to get laid tonight?"

As an answer, Harvey snakes an arm around Mike's waist and pulls him into a kiss, finally managing to shut him up. When he pulls back, Mike looks a little dazed. "Can we go now? Ray is waiting, and I don't want him to get mugged just because you live in this crap-shack."

"Yeah, you're definitely not going to get laid tonight." They leave the apartment and Mike locks up. "So what's the special occasion?"

"Will you shut up already?"

 

*

Dinner goes well.

Mike has a burger (as always) while Harvey treats himself to a sirloin steak. The wine is ridiculously expensive but it's worth every penny.

Thankfully, Mike has finally let go of the tie-thing, perhaps due in part to Harvey having had his hand on Mike's dick since the second they slipped into the backseat of the town-car and threatening to actually withhold sex.

Date conversations with Mike are easy. Harvey never thought it would be (mostly because he himself hates small talk), but strangely enough there is less awkward silence than with any other person Harvey has been out with in the past. Sometimes, they talk about movies, sometimes there's a case to discuss.

Sometimes Mike recalls a story about his grandmother, and whenever he does, his eyes get a little cloudy. Harvey tries his best to pull him out of the reverie, and most of the time it only takes a little brush of his fingers against Mike's. Not because it's a very sensual touch, but whenever Harvey shows any form of intimacy, Mike gets gobsmacked and just stares at him for a minute.

There's crème brûlée for desert, and Mike insists they take a serving of butter caramel cake to go. Harvey only complies because Mike proposes his plan with a cheeky grin and he likes where his mind wanders when Mikes says it.

Truth be told, tonight Harvey is willing to put up with a lot of things, despite how much he would usually roll his eyes at it. That's how far things have come.

Harvey pays and has the waiter call them a cab.

It's cold outside and Mike has his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. He is shifting from one foot to the other, and his breath is visible in the hair.

Harvey watches him and he almost tells him right there. He's never really felt the urge before, but his mind has been so fixated on it tonight that he almost gives himself away. But it isn't right yet. They can't just be standing on the street waiting for a cab when Harvey tells him that...

"What are you staring at?" Eyeing him curiously, Mike's question tears him out of his musings.

Harvey could say 'nothing' or he could say 'you,' but none of those options seem viable. Instead, he takes a step forward, breaching the gap between them, and kisses Mike.

"What was that for?" Mike runs his fingers over his lips, looking a little confused when the pull apart.

Harvey just shrugs, trying to play it cool.

"You've never kissed me in public before."

Of course Mike wouldn't let that one pass. Him and his damn memory. Thankfully, the cab pulls up to the curb just then, saving Harvey for the time being. He opens the door for Mike.

"We will talk about this, Mr. Specter," Mike says before he slides into the backseat and gives him that knowing look again.

Harvey really needs to work on acting more nonchalant.

 

*

They stumble into Harvey's loft in a tangle of limbs, expensive clothing, and a take-out bag with butter caramel cake.

Mike was a tease the entire ride, and while he didn't keep asking about the kiss, his hands all over Harvey was question enough. The cab driver eyed them in the rearview mirror (whether he'd been amused or annoyed, he couldn't tell), so Harvey had been more than generous with his tip.

Now, Mike winds Harvey's tie around his hand, dragging him along the hallway into the loft. They haven't broken their kiss since entering the elevator. With the other hand, Mike pushes Harvey's suit jacket off his shoulders until it's only hanging by the sleeve of the hand that's holding their desert. Using the slight advantage, Mike goes for Harvey's tie and carefully loosens the knot until it comes apart. Still kissing, Mike pushes him backwards until Harvey's back hits the kitchen counter. That's where the tie lands, too.

When they finally pull apart and Mike shrugs out of his own jacket, it's Harvey who feels a little dazed. He wants Mike, and the chocolate cake... both. And more than he ever thought or expected he would.

Again, he is so close to telling him right there, but it still doesn't feel quite right yet.

Thankfully, this time Mike doesn't catch him staring. Instead he makes a show of unbuttoning his shirt, or tries to because he looks ridiculous and Harvey has to grin at him.

"Funny, your pretend-lawyer is so much better than your pretend-stripper."

Mike mock-scowls at him. Then he takes the bag from Harvey's hand. "Careful, Harvey. One more of those comments and I'll be having this all by myself." He saunters over to Harvey's bedroom, and this time, his seduction actually works.

"You're not actually thinking about eating that in my bed, are you?"

Mike shrugs. "Bring a plate then. Or don't." He winks at him, the cheeky bastard. "But do bring a drink."

Harvey's eyebrows go up. "And what would you like? Hot chocolate, maybe?"

"How about some of that amazing red wine we had last time. I hear pinot noir goes really well with dark chocolate cake."

"Look at you, talking like a connoisseur. Seems like I finally managed to teach you something useful." Harvey goes over to his bar and takes out one of the aforementioned bottles and two glasses. When he turns around again, Mike has already disappeared into the bedroom.

Harvey takes a moment to breath, to catch his bearings. He really shouldn't be so nervous. It's not like he's going to ask Mike to marry him. He just wants to tell him that he...

He's had his job, his career (and with it a good portion of his life) on the line three times in the past two years. That should have made him nervous. It hadn't. This, however, has him literally trembling in his $500 shoes, and it isn't really a life-altering thing. Or is it?

When Harvey enters his bedroom, Mike is standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out. It's like no matter how many times he is here, Mike can never get enough of the view. If asked, he can most likely recall every detail, too.

"Why aren't you naked?" Yeah, Harvey really needs to ask that.

Mike doesn't turn around and in a flat tone, he responds: "And do all the work myself? Please. You've got this whole seduction thing going on here tonight, you gotta finish what you started."

With the bottle and glasses still in hand, Harvey is at Mike's side within a few strides. His free hand goes around Mike's slender waist and he pulls him into a kiss as if he needs to prove a point.

As Harvey pulls away, he feels a little self-satisfied. He hands Mike the glasses and pours them some pinot noir.

"What are we drinking to?" Mike asks, swiveling the wine in a circle.

Harvey takes one of the glasses and considers the questions for a moment. Clinking his glass against Mike's, he replies: "To nothing special."

Yeah, Harvey sure knows how to seduce him.

It has taken him a few tries to figure out how Mike "works". For the first time, 'play the man' hasn't worked, so he had taken his time to learn about Mike, to find the spots where he is ticklish, where he likes to be kissed and caressed and all the things in between.

During those lessons, Harvey memorized all the little sounds that Mike makes when he kisses his neck, when he runs his fingers over his nipples, or (just like he has now) when he has his mouth wrapped around Mike's cock.

Somehow, Mike manages not to spill his wine, nor Harvey's that was pressed into his free hand when Harvey dropped to his knees before him. He is still standing, too, even though he seems a bit shaky on his feet. His pants are pooled around his ankles, and Harvey's fingers are curled into his open shirt to keep him steady.

"I think I may need to sit down," Mike says, his voice hoarse and thready.

Harvey rises to his feet, takes his glass and downs its contents. When he kisses Mike again, it's a mixture of red wine and... him. And this time, it's Harvey who is a little dazed. That's when he decides to slow down, to actually savor this. Of course he's not able to memorize it like Mike can, but he can do the next best thing.

He takes the other glass from Mike's hand and slowly pushes the shirt off his shoulders. With a light push against his chest, he makes Mike sit down on the bed, and Mike kicks of his shoes and wriggles out of his pants.

Mike looks up at him almost expectantly, and for a brief moment Harvey wonders if he'll say it now. It would be strange with one of them dressed and the other naked, and honestly, Harvey would be a little pissed if Mike would – yeah, that's what he'll go with - steal his thunder.

When Mike remains quiet, Harvey starts unbuttoning his own shirt. He doesn't attempt to make a show of it, he just takes his time. To Mike, and a little to his own surprise, he just lets his clothes drop to the floor. The shirt goes first, then the t-shirt he wears underneath. He kicks of his shoes (he's never not untied the laces first, that is until he met Mike and adopted the bad habit), and then he slips out of his pants and boxers.

Harvey knows he' a good-looking man. He tends to his appearance with meticulous effort. Part of it is that clothes do make the man, and in their line of work impressions do matter. Sometimes more than anything else. Part of it is - and he has come to realize that in the past months - that he uses his looks, the pristine suits and shirts and ties and the immaculate haircut, as armor. It's his impenetrable shield that reflects off whatever comes at him. Except for Mike.

Somehow, that guy... that kid, really... manages to look through him and sometimes he hates it. Sometimes he despises Mike for insisting that he, Harvey, cares, that things other than himself matter to him. But sometimes, just like now, he enjoys the way Mike looks at him, which has nothing to do with the way he looks. Somehow those damn baby blue eyes manage to look right at him and into him, and it's equal parts scary and enticing.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Mike finally breaks the silence. He leans back on his elbows with a smug smile.

Harvey mirrors the expressions and steps closer. One of his knees goes between Mike's thighs, inching them apart and he leans over him, his weight supported on his hands. When he kisses Mike, it's slow and sensual and it deepens quickly.

Mike wraps one leg around Harvey's waist, drawing him closer. Then he uses the other leg as leverage to roll them over. He comes to sit astride Harvey's thighs and straightens, smiling down at him.

"That's how you're going to play it?" Harvey rests his head on his arms.

"No, I was just going to get some cake." Mike leans back and reaches for the takeout bag. He frees the cardboard container and opens it like he had just found a long long treasure. He digs in with his fingers and stuffs a piece of cake into this mouth. His eyes flicker shut and he all but mewls in delight.

"Do you want me to leave the two of you alone?" So yeah, Harvey does sound a bit miffed. Is he being denied because of a piece of cake?

"You want some?" Mike holds another bit of cake out to him, grinning like an idiot. He has his fingers right under Harvey's nose, who has to admit that the cake not only looks good, it also smells delicious. When Harvey tries to dive for it, Mike pulls his hand back and eats the cake himself.

"Really?" Harvey quirks an eyebrow. "How old are you? Five?"

"Five and a half."

At that, the tiniest shiver rolls down Harvey's spine as he remembers Donna saying the exact same words. He sits up, putting an arm around Mike's waist.

"So you do want some of that cake?" Mike grins triumphantly and reaches for another piece.

Harvey grabs his wrist and guides Mike's chocolate-coated fingers to his mouth. "I want you," he says before he wraps his lips around Mike's fingers.

A breath hitches in Mike's throat. Harvey's eyes never leave Mike's even when they flicker shut. Obviously Harvey's actions have the desired effect. Slowly, he circles Mike's fingertips with his tongue before sucking them into his mouth.

With a pop, Mike pulls his fingers from Harvey's mouth and kisses him, the taste of chocolate and red wine lingering on their tongues. He sits back again, and reaches for the drawer of Harvey's nightstand to produce a tube of lube and a condom. With a cheeky smile, he hands both to Harvey. "Then have me."

"Like this?" Harvey nods vaguely at their current position.

"Yeah."

For a second, Harvey looks at him. He doesn't even know why he hesitates. They've done it all sorts of positions (and all over the place, too), but right now this feels way more intimate than it should. He probably has to chalk it up to all the anticipation and preparation he has put into this evening.

He flinches when Mike takes the lube from his hand and starts preparing himself.

Harvey watches him and almost tells him then, but somehow telling Mike when he has his fingers in his ass doesn't seem all that appropriate. So he opts for unwrapping the condom and puts it on.

Mike takes his time with Harvey. He goes up on his knees and then slowly sinks down on Harvey's cock. He has one arm wrapped around Harvey's neck, the other hand between their bodies. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open. He looks so lost in the moment that Harvey can't help but kiss him.

Having Mike around him feels... is amazing. When they started this, Harvey didn't expect it to be like this. He didn't anticipate all the little sounds Mike makes when he rides him or how his hands seem to constantly search for contact. Or how every time feels like a first time because Mike is so unbelievably tight around him.

Mike all but claws at the back of his neck, fingers raking through his short hair. These are the only occasions when Harvey doesn't mind the disarray Mike causes.

They take it slow, neither of them intending to rush it.

Mike has set a relaxed and leisurely pace, and is stroking himself in the same rhythm. His forehead is pressed against Harvey's, who can feel his every ragged breath against his skin.

Harvey catches himself running nonsense patterns over the planes of Mike's back. It's like he is trying to commit to memory every curve and dip of Mike's body just to be able to recount the feelings on his fingertips at a later point.

After a while, Mike quickens the pace. Little beads of sweat have collected at the base of his throat and Harvey leans into him to kiss them away. He wraps his fingers around Mike's hand, taking over, so Mike's free arm goes around Harvey's neck.

He's riding him harder now, urging for release. Whenever he pushes down, a little moan tumbles off Mike's tongue and it's the most endearing sound.

"I'm gonna.... I can't....," Mike starts to ramble whenever he gets close.

Harvey shuts him up with a kiss and when he pulls back, his grip around Mike has tightened. "Come for me," he breathes against Mike's heated skin.

"It doesn't... work.... like that," Mike barely manages. His own words betray him not even a minute later.

Harvey can't help the triumphant grin that edges on his face. It's nothing like he was aiming for, it just happens to happen this way more often than it doesn't.

Mike spills himself between them, over Harvey's hand, and he breathes Harvey's name like it's a prayer.

That all by itself can make Harvey come. Along with the feeling of Mike tightening around him, it takes him over the edge shortly after. He has his face buried against Mike's shoulder, breaths him in, as something white-hot and brilliant spreads from the pit of his stomach through his entire body.

Mike runs his fingers over Harvey's shoulders, pushing him back a little, making him look at him. "Tell me the truth."

Harvey can only raise an eyebrow quizzically.

"Did you have me conditioned to come whenever you tell me to?"

Another triumphant grin. "Not that I'm aware of. Doesn't mean it doesn't work, though."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

For a moment, Mike just looks at him. "No, I don't."

Harvey opens his mouth to say something – it, probably, he isn't sure yet – when Mike shuts up him with a kiss before he slowly eases off him. "I'll go get cleaned up." He presses another kiss to Harvey's mouth before then disappearing into the en suite.

His shoulders sagging, Harvey puffs out a breath. He has to say it now or he might never do it. This night has held so many chances and opportunities and yet, he just keeps putting it off. Just now would have been the perfect moment, but he missed it. Mike made him miss it and he should be a little angry about it, bBut he isn't and it all but proves his point: Mike needs to know.

Harvey disposes of the condom in the wastebasket next to the nightstand, then reaches for the wine and pours himself another glass. Yeah, it's for courage.

When Mike returns, he walks over to the bar and gets himself a water. With it, he slumps down on the mattress, limbs sprawled. "That... was amazing."

"Yeah." Harvey smiles around the rim of his glass. He isn't sure why he likes it so much when Mike makes comments like that. He surely has enough ego to not need this kind of feedback. He takes one more sip. "Listen, Mike... there's been something I need to... I've been meaning to tell you."

"You're pregnant."

Part of Harvey enjoys that Mike breaks the tension. Part of him just wants to get it over with because... yeah, he's a bit scared. "No."

Mike let's out a relieved breath. "Thank god. Cause I'm way too young to be a dad."

"Can you be serious?"

Mike sits up next to him, his mood sober now. "Okay, I am serious. What's going on?"

Harvey looks at Mike, and he knows that what he is about to say is the truth. It's not some fabricated, romantic spur of the moment kind of notion. It's a fact.

"I love you."

Mike swallows. And remains quiet. He remains quiet for a long time. For too long. And then he speaks. "Okay." It's barely more than a whisper. "Thanks."

Harvey isn't quite sure what happens next. He isn't listening anymore. Some subconscious part of his brain registers that Mike rises from the bed and starts gathering his clothes. And that he says something about having a deposition in the morning and that he probably should sleep at his place because he still has some work to do. None of which makes any sense because tomorrow is Saturday and even Pearson Hardman doesn't do depositions on a Saturday (at least not on the cases Mike is handling).

The next thing Harvey does hear is the door falling shut behind Mike.

As if in a trance, Harvey rises, takes the remainder of the chocolate caramel cake and takes it to the kitchen where he tosses it in the garbage. There he spots his checkered tie – the one for special occasions – and throws it out as well.

Then he breaks out his second most expensive scotch, pours himself a drink (or three) and looks out onto the city, wondering what the hell just happened.

 

*

Harvey switches off his cell after Mike calls him for the fifth time. Then he unplugs the landline. How the guy even got his home number is a mystery he isn't willing to delve into.

Then he gets an email from Mike that he just deletes without reading. Then he emails Donna he will be unavailable for the whole weekend. She messages back within two minutes (he needs to tell her to get a life) and all the email includes is a winking smile. He lets her believe this is why he goes incommunicado.

The truth is that Harvey gets very drunk.

He can't recall the last time he has gotten properly wasted. He does enjoy the occasional drink, but he knows his limits and he has a reputation to uphold.

Tonight, he doesn't give a fuck.

Tonight he flies off the handle, all limits be damned. There's no point in holding on to a reputation that doesn't really mean anything to him right now.

He marathons Star Trek the entire weekend until he starts talking to himself in an almost perfect Captain Kirk voice.

He feels like he's sixteen years old again and he just discovered that nothing is what it seemed.

 

*

On Monday, Harvey is at the office at 7:30 am.

He showers and shaves so that he doesn't smell like Thai takeout anymore.

Everything was back to normal, that is until Mike shows up in his office at 8.

"I got the briefs you wanted." It's not even an excuse.

"Thanks. Put them over there." Harvey doesn't look up from his laptop, just points vaguely at his desk.

Mike does as he is told. And then he lingers, shifting nervously from one leg to the other.

Part of Harvey wants to ask if there is anything else, but he knows that there is so he refrains. Besides, he wants Mike out of his office as soon as possible, so he doesn't want to do anything to prolong the situation.

"Harvey, can we talk about this?" Mike finally asks and Harvey almost laughs.

"About what?" Stupid questions call for a stupid... question. Harvey still hasn't looked up. Instead, he takes a pen to take a few hurried notes that he won't be able to decipher later.

"You know about what."

Harvey's shoulders sag in defeat. Mike just won't let it go, won't leave. Finally, he looks up at him and Mike looks about as miserable as Harvey has allowed himself to feel in the past 48 hours.

"Mike, there is nothing to talk about. I assumed we were on the same page. We obviously weren't, so..."

Mike looks a little surprised. "That's it? Harvey, you told me..."

"No, that's not it," Harvey continues in the same evenl tone. He sounds like he's negotiating some deal, and he is a little proud of that. "I'll be very busy with this new merger we have coming up. So I think it's best if we take a break for a while, let things cool off."

Now Mike really looks surprised and a bit hurt, which fills Harvey with a strange kind of satisfaction. He knows it's not fair, but he can't help it. "Are you..." Mike begins and he has to swallow before he can finish the sentence, "are you breaking up with me?"

He can't say it. He can't say yes. And he can't say no, either. So Harvey doesn't answer at all and focuses back on the file on his computer. "Don't you have cases to work on?"

He feels Mike's eyes on him for a good minute. When he finally leaves, Harvey lets out a breath and realizes that his fingers are curled so tightly around his pen that it's about to crack.

That wasn't so bad, was it? It went more or less the way Harvey had imagined it when he mulled over every possible scenario. Things might actually be okay.

He leans back in his chair, and turns it lazily from side to side. When he swivels to his right and his gaze meets Donna's, he knows that nothing is okay.

 

*

Donna makes it until noon before she comes stalking into his office. He caught her looking at him all morning and that she managed to wait four hours before saying something must be a new record.

"What happened?" she asks without preamble.

Harvey looks at her and he knows that there is no escaping. So he just shrugs like none of this means anything. "I told him."

Her eyebrows go up and... what's that look on her face? Is she angry? With him? Does she assume that he... "Harvey?" she presses on when he doesn't continue.

He can't look at her, can't face that accusing look that's almost a bit sympathetic because she knows him better than he knows himself sometimes. So he focuses on a piece of paper on his desk and pretends to study it like it holds the secret to the world when it's just a fire-drill memo.

"We're done," he finally says and the words come too easily. He doesn't even know what he is referring to – this conversation or...

Donna lingers, too, but with her it's different. With her, he almost breaks his silence and tells her, but before he can, she turns and leaves. She doesn't look at him from her desk for the remainder of the day, and that makes things even worse.

 

*

Donna observes things for a week.

It's absurd, really.

How Mike appears at her desk to drop off files that he'd usually deliver to Harvey in person. How Harvey tells her to tell Mike this or that like she is his secretary or something.

When they actually have to converse in person, it's like watching a pair of awkward teenagers. They don't look at each other and they just exchange the most basic facts. There's no banter, no back and forth of movie quotes, no nothing. It's like they don't even know each other any more.

It's not just absurd. It hurts.

At first, Donna suspected that Harvey had messed things up. He may be the best closer the city has ever seen, but when it came to emotions and feelings and basic human characteristics, he could be so painfully awkward and stupid, really. She, of all people, should know. So when she had overheard his conversation with Mike on Monday morning, she thought it had something to do with what he had done.

By Wednesday, she realizes her assessment was wrong. Whenever Mike shows up at the office, he looks like a puppy who had just knocked over some valuable heirloom. She may not know him as well as she knows Harvey, but she can decipher the effect all this has on Harvey.

He is hurting. He would never admit it and probably just tell her to go file something if she ever brought it up, but she can tell. Something happened that night, something that wasn't within his control, something that threw him completely for a loop. It hasn't affected his work (when does anything, ever?), but it's there. It's there in the lavender tie and in the way Harvey's gaze drifts out the window whenever Mike leaves his office and he doesn't want Donna to get a look at his expression.

On Friday, Donna has had enough.

 

*

"Fix it." Donna sits on the edge of Mike's desk. She ignores the looks of the other associates because she has a job to do.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Mike doesn't look at her, but she won't have any of that. She grabs his chair and turns it – and Mike with it – in her direction.

"You know." She keeps her voice neutral. "Fix it."

"What makes you think it was something I did?" Mike tries, but she just scoffs and rolls her eyes at him. The kid's got some nerve.

"Listen, Mike, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but you better make things right again so we can end this charade."

Mike's shoulders sag. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not exactly on speaking terms."

"I noticed. And I'm sick of it. Now go and actually talk to him."

"I tried. He won't listen to me."

"Then make him," Donna urges him. She isn't really sure if she should say what she is about to say. A quick look around confirms that none of the associates are listening so she gives it a go. "You know him, Mike. You of all people should know that loyalty and trust is what he values the most."

Mike remains quiet and he averts her gaze, looking guilty.

She knows it's probably unfair to push this, but it needs to be done so she presses where it hurts. "Do you have any idea how many people he's been as close to as he is to you?"

Mike looks at her now, one eyebrow raised. "You know the answer to that question."

"Two." She holds up her fingers. "And that includes you. So whatever it is that you did or didn't say to him... he needs to know the truth. You owe him that."

 

*

Harvey is halfway into season three of Star Trek on Friday night. Watching it became kind of a thing this past week. After his marathon, he watched an episode or three every night.

He gets himself a drink and by the time the credits are rolling, he is so tired that he is able to sleep without thinking too much.

When he's about to start 'Plato's Stepchildren,' there's a knock on the door. Harvey doesn't even need to check to know who it is. He goes to the door anyway.

"Go home, Mike," he replies without looking through the peephole.

"I need to talk to you," comes the reply.

"You've said enough." Harvey hates how bitter he sounds.

"Harvey, please." And he hates how whiny Mike sounds.

Harvey leans against the door like they do in those chick flicks. He is too tired to bother. A chill runs down his spine and it's as if he can almost feel Mike do the same out in the hall.

Part of Harvey wants to open the door, let Mike in, and let him say whatever it is he needs to say. He can't. He has already lost enough – unimportant things like his pride, his dignity, his boyfriend (or whatever Mike is or was) – he won't add more to the list.

"Go home," he finally says, pushing himself off the door.

"Nobody has ever said that to me before." Mike's words make Harvey stop. "You were the first."

Yeah, Harvey hates him right now. Hates how he won't let go. Hates how he won't leave. Hates how that stupid kid knows how to get to him, whether he's even aware of it or not. Hates how sometimes he says the right thing at the right time. And he hates that he doesn't really hate him.

Harvey opens the door.

Mike still looks miserable and disheveled, and a little scared, too, because he almost shies away from Harvey.

"Come in," Harvey hears himself say and he steps away from the door.

"Thanks."

"I just don't want you to make a fool out of yourself, or me, by shouting in the hall." That's not the real reason and they both know it.

Harvey leads the way to the living and pauses the DVD. Then he pours himself another drink, feeling he might need it. He doesn't offer one to Mike.

Awkward silence stretches between them.

Mike looks a little lost as he stands there and the sleek, white and vast expanse of the condo doesn't help him at all.

"You wanted to talk. So talk," Harvey says when he has enough of this dancing around the inevitable.

"I'm sorry, Harvey."

Harvey scoffs. "What for? For the 'thank you' or for making up some excuse and running out?"

"Both."

"That's awesome, Mike," Harvey says and he sounds more vile than he intended. He doesn't mind that tone, though, because it helps him to get on the right track again. "Now that we've got that settled, you can leave."

Mike rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in frustration. "You're right. I should not have come here because obviously you're making it impossible to apologize to you."

"And obviously you think that I owe it to you to be polite when you humiliated me." Oh yeah, and Harvey hates that Mike can make him talk about feelings he had forgotten how to be capable of.

"I told you, I am..."

"Sorry, I heard." Harvey pauses. "Do you have any idea how many people I've..."

"Two," Mike interrupts. "Including me."

Harvey stares at him. "Donna."

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna fire her."

"You think it will stick this time?"

Harvey hates that Mike makes him laugh when he wants to be mad at him, and how he uses that moment of weakness to weasel his way in.

"Harvey, I really am sorry. I just... when you told me, I panicked. I didn't know what to do."

"So you opted for the worst possible alternative." If only they could end this conversation so Harvey would stop feeling so painfully vulnerable.

"You know my track record, Harvey." Mike starts to sound frustrated, impatient. "My history of relationships hasn't been exactly stellar, much less than to go as far as to... to tell each other how we felt."

Harvey shouldn't... he really, absolutely shouldn't ask: "And how do you feel?"

Mike sinks down on the armrest of the sofa, and that pause alone is almost enough to drive Harvey insane. Add to it that Mike shrugs...

"I thought you knew, with your whole 'I play the man, I know what you think before you think it'-thing."

Harvey ever so slightly shakes his head at that, trying to ignore the anxiety that's bubbling up inside him.

"I'm crazy about you," Mike finally says and there is something matter-of-factly in the way he says as if it should have been clear to Harvey. "And it scares the shit out of me."

"I'm not sure if that's supposed to be a good thing."

"In case you haven't noticed, you are the most important person in my life. My freaking world revolves around you. I've never been in a relationship like this, and that night, it... it was perfect. And sometimes... all this," Mike gestures vaguely between them and at the condo in general, "it scares me because I have no clue what I'd do if I lost it."

Harvey tries to comprehend what he has just heard. Suddenly he wishes he was sitting down as well. Rather lamely, he asks: "Why haven't you said it then?"

Mike snorts indelicately. "Because you're you."

"Excuse me?"

"From the first day we met, whenever I said that I cared about a client, you mocked me. And you made it clear that you despise any form of human emotion. So when we started this," again Mike gestures between them, "I never expected you to ever tell me what you... what this is to you. So I figured I'd better keep my mouth shut because I thought if I told that I love you, you'd... laugh at me."

"You thought I'd make fun of you?" Harvey isn't really sure if he should be insulted or disappointed. Maybe both.

Mike throws up his hands.

The problem is that Mike's concern isn't all that far fetched. No, Harvey wouldn't have laughed at him, but he isn't entirely sure how he would have reacted. What he is sure of, though, is that it does hurt a bit that Mike assumed he'd make fun of him. That it was his fault that Mike hadn't been been able to say it sooner. That he... what?... made Mike scared of his feelings for him? Or at least of admitting them?

"Well, Donna told me to tell you the truth. Now you know." Mike rises from the couch and heads for the door. "Guess I'll see you on Monday, then."

He looks so tired when he walks past Harvey. He posture is slouched and his suit is a bit rumpled and his hands are pushed deep into his pockets. There's something else, something...

Harvey doesn't realize it until Mike already has his fingers around the door handle. That's where he catches up with him, putting his hand over Mike's.

"What did you just say to me?" he asks, making sure.

"That I'll see you on Monday?"

"Before that."

"Donna told me to the tell you the truth."

"Before that." Harvey gets irritated, mostly because he doesn't know if Mike is just playing with him right now.

"I said I love you."

"Yeah, that."

"Getting a little slow on the uptake, aren't we?" Mike smiles smugly.

Harvey ignores him. "You do?"

"Yes."

It has only been a week since their last kiss, but when Harvey shoves Mike up against the door it's like they have never done this before. It feels so new and fresh, and Harvey wasn't even aware of how much he has been longing for this.

"I've missed you," he surprises himself by saying this, "us." He leans his forehead against Mike's, breathing him in. "Stay."

Mike contemplates that for a moment, then begins fighting a grin. "Only if you'll let me watch 'Plato's Stepchildren' with you."

"Only if you tell me again."

"Getting greedy, huh?"

"You walked out on me."

Mike wraps an arm around Harvey's neck and brings his mouth close to his ear. "I love you."

Harvey lets the words sink in, lets them settle firmly into that place he had willfully abandoned a long time ago. "And I love you."

It happens almost six months in.

No, it happens exactly five months and twenty-one days in.

That's 172 days. Or 25 weeks. Or 4128 hours. Or 247... oh fuck this... He is not counting the minutes. And sure as hell won't count the seconds. He is not Mike Ross.

He is Harvey Specter. And he has Mike to count the minutes for him.


End file.
